It was not uncommon for soldiers, after harrowing battle, to have trouble sleeping. Laying awake as the minutes stretch into long hours. Remembering the battle heat, the confusion, the smell of sweat and blood on the field. Yes, Tarsorel has had his share of sleepless nights. Thinking of lost comrades. Remember people he could not save. Feeling old battle wounds, long since healed, and their phantom pains.
Recently, and ever since he most recently left Gondor, Tarsorel could not sleep. Nights passed with him staring into the darkness punctuated by snippets of unconsciousness. It was those moments of blackness that he craved, for in them no dream or memory assaulted his mind. In those periods of empty bliss he did not have to remember.
He was manning the catapult upon the rampart with Aleksi. For hours they worked, heaving heavy stones into the capsule and launching them toward the enemy. With each passing hour the rocks became heavier and his body screamed in protest. They were already exhausted from the earlier fighting, and the job of manning the catapult was wearing heavy on both men.
Tarsorel heard a cry from the field. A woman’s cry, perhaps, telling of reinforcements. And in a moment of blind foolishness, Tarsorel left his post to see what was happening. A single mistake, an error cause by lack of discipline and exhaustion, yet one that would have lasting consequences.
Without Tarsorel’s assistance, the catapult balked. It slid from the rampart, taking Aleksi with it, and dangled from the interior edge of the wall. Aleksi was dangling dangerously from the precariously hanging catapult.
Tarsorel acted, and somehow was able to pull Aleksi to safety. But their struggles to pull Tarsorel’s comrade to safety the dangerously leaning catapult fell to the ground. Three defending soldiers were crushed under the falling catapult, killing them. The battle was over shortly afterwards, a victory for the defenders.
In the time that followed Tarsorel failure came to light. Captain Draverenor had ordered him to financially compensate the families of whom his manslaughter affected. This Tarsorel continues to do, with no small portion of his business profits being sent to Gondor each month.
Tarsorel was demoted and left formal service of Gondor for a second time. This time, however, he left as a low ranking enlisted man. It was as close to a dishonorable discharge as could be without it being formally stated. A punishment for his carelessness and disregard for duty.
Tarsorel could not lie to himself that the reduction in rank and discharge did not sting. But that was not what kept him awake. He would think of many things, of past comrades, of old wounds, of people he could not save. Mostly, however, he would thinking those three soldiers, killed by his carelessness. Of widows and orphans made by his own damn hand. He would stare into the darkness of the night…and sometimes the darkness stares back.
He is Tarsorel of Gondor, from Calembel. Son of Barsorel. Known as Amathwain, the Renewed Shield of Gondor to the elves of Imladris. He is Ryheric’s strong shield and a protector to his friends and allies. He is a man of honor and integrity.
He is Tarsorel of Gondor, from Calembel. Son of Barsorel. He is a known murderer. A conspicuous failure. An avowed pretender. A notorious self server.
Which was he, in the end?
